


break a leg

by iimpavid



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Acting, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, First Meetings, Gen, Lesbians in Space, Meet-Cute, Pre-Canon, Snippets, Theater - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 20:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimpavid/pseuds/iimpavid
Summary: Before she was a thief, Buddy was an actress. It was something like a natural progression.





	break a leg

**Author's Note:**

> Another unbeta'd introduction to something that may or may not ever be longer. 
> 
> (I learned that there were fewer than a dozen Buddy/Vespa fics on AO3. This is my attempt to do my part.)

Yoraba was a tourist trap. The jewel of Schnoor with bazaars known across the galaxy for their rarities, their prices, their shockingly-legal delights. Its theaters were renowned, home to actors of unparalleled grace and playwrights so scandalous, so political, they’d be arrested anywhere else in the Outer Rim.

Of course, living there was a slightly different story. The citystate was permeated by the persistent stink of ozone and ash from the graviton engines running beneath its surface.

Buddy tried the stage door again and, by some lack of divine intervention, it was still locked. “You’ve gotta be _kidding me._ ”

The Majestic was open for business and her cue was in a five minutes. All she’d wanted was a little fresh air, maybe a cigarette to calm her nerves, but some asshole had set the doors to lock from the inside.

She shivered. Yanked on the locked door handle like all it’d take to open it was just shaking the lock around a little. The suns had set and her costume was thin, more sequins than fabric, and her coat was somewhere backstage.

She shrieked behind her teeth, frustrated and unable to do a damn thing about it except lose this gig and lose rent. More importantly, she’d lose her in with the theater-going bourgeoisie with frequent house parties and expensive knickknacks. She had her fist cocked back, ready to bite the bullet and knock on the door as hard as she could, to commit the immortal sin of interrupting the show rather than miss her cue and look like she skipped out—either way Jazz was going to kill her for this-- when the sound of pounding footsteps gave her pause.

Someone running. No, _sprinting._ _Like their life depended on it_ barreled down the alley toward her, blew past her so fast the breeze tangled her wig. The runner vaulted over the trash cans taking up half the alley— and screeched to a halt faced with the impassable reality of the flat concrete wall. No fence to climb, no through way. “ _Fuck!”_ The runner whipped around, frantic, bright green hair clinging to her face with sweat — when she noticed Buddy standing there, lit cigarette turning to one long ash between her fingers, she froze.

There was another shout. Both women turned to watch the mouth of the alley as two hulking members of the Boarshead thundered toward them.

“ _FREEZE_!” Buddy’s voice rang out like a gunshot, amplified by the narrow alley, the high walls. She had her prop pistol drawn. Stance set firm and fearless like she knew what she was doing. She’d played a cop once. At an improv show. She had the kind of blind confidence that could topple worlds.

Or, at least, it could give a couple of low level thugs pause.

One of them squinted at her in the low light. “What’re you gonna do with that peashooter?”

“Shoot you, obviously,” she told them.

The stage door opened. Jazz sticking his head out, frantic, hissed at her, “Buddy!! You’re on! What the fuck are you doing out here!”

Buddy fired a blank into the air, another layer of distraction. Dashed to grab the green haired woman’s sleeve and drag her into the theater.

The stage door slammed heavily behind the three of them. Buddy imagine Jazz’s full-body cringe. The runner stood beside her stiff as a board and radiating discomfort. Buddy whispered to her, “I’ll be back in a minute,” then turned and strode out into her scene.

  


**Author's Note:**

> If anyone knows where the heck this is going, I'm open to suggestions.
> 
> (Yes, I know I reuse NPCs and settings. No, that doesn't mean everything is connected.)


End file.
